The Unwilling Herald
by raikouplush
Summary: This is a first person story that semi-follows the storyline of Dragon Age: Inquisiton. Through memories and flashbacks Dragon Age 2 and Origins will also be mentioned as will history back to the Fourth Blight. Rated M for gratuitous violence. No Lemons or Limes are planned. On Hiatus


**AN:**_ Hey everyone its me! For a quick note this will only be updated once a month so I can properly dedicate time to writing quality chapters for both this fiction and Pass On Heroes (a My Hero Academia fiction). I am venturing into one of my absolute favorite series with this fiction and hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it! I am currently leaving the race ambiguous though I will change that by next chapter. This is my first venture into first person and I hope that y'all enjoy!_

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I was never consulted on whether or not I wanted to save Fereldan. In fact, I never wanted this job. Just moments ago I was cuffed in an underground cell with two angry women screaming at me. Now, since they determined that the glowing and painful object on my palm is useful, I am being paraded through the camp that I did not know existed. These people, these humans. They are staring at me with such hatred and contempt that I cannot help but feel as if I should have died. Even the wounded ones, those who were conscious, glared as I was walked down the main road. No mortal was meant to travel the fade as I had.

"They are mourning the loss of the Divine," Cassandra says as I tune her out. She is clearly still talking but I do not want to hear. I do not want to see the looks that these people share and I bow my head in a feeble attempt to hide.

As we continue walking I ignore the jeers and calls of those who cannot be easily silenced. This is no different than when I became a Grey Warden so many years ago. I became a warden during 5:01 Exalted, during what would later be called the Fourth Blight. I was there during the fight against the great Archdemon Andoral at Ayesleigh. I watched so many griffon riders fall to its fearsome power that I feared they would never recover. I was sadly right and watched as the last of their kind died and received a burial worthy of a Knight-Commander. Though much occurred the between years those memories have faded as time has taken its toll on my memories. I remember the Fifth Blight clearly during 9:30 Dragon. The Battle of Ostagar where King Cailan fell as did the most of our numbers. I remember being too late to Lothering, and the Civil War that tore a country apart. When I survived so long ago they called me a hero. Now? None recognize me though the great fight was only eleven years before. I am back to where I began, an object of hatred and disdain.

A blast of green fills my vision followed by excruciating pain. This pulls me from my silent memories and though I bear it for a moment it is too much. Unable to stand I fall to my knees and attempt to bite back a scream. This pain was so much worse than the breath of the Archdemons. I lay in the snow shivering, waiting for what feels like minutes as the pain pulses throughout my entire body. As quickly as it appeared it vanishes, leaving me huddled in the snow.

"The mark is spreading quickly," Cassandra tells me as she offers a hand to pull me to my feet. "We need to close this rift before it kills you."

The momentary hope I held that she remembered and cared was dashed with that last comment. I am just a tool to her. Following behind quietly, I keep pace as we run at a stamina saving pace up the mountain path. It was not a long distance until we were at the great wooden gates that led to a bridge. I take the lead here and regret it quickly as a rock from the heavens crashes in front of us and destroys the stone. We both fall roughly to the frozen lake below, where she commands me to stay behind her. I am more than willing to listen to this order, until the stone fragments begins to pulse with green power. Clearly, this is a time that disobeying a superiors orders is acceptable. Looking frantically I spy a staff nearby and am relieved. It is one made for a beginner or basic mage, a simple wooden pole topped with a solid metal cap. Though it is not mine it still helps to focus and direct the wild power that surrounds me.

The next few hours are a blur as Cassandra and I fight our way through many enemies. She is slow, attempting to sneak past all demon encounters no matter how often I inform her that such actions are pointless. After a few well placed comments about keeping my mouth shut I finally obey. It is clear that she does not want my aid in these matters and so I just follow and fight as needed. It seems that prisoners need not give tactical advice. If only this warrior knew of my ages worth of experience.

Eventually we get past the growing barricade of demons. Gods above, I have not seen so many since the last blight! As we charge past the bodies of those we have destroyed and up the mountain she yells out that they are fighting and that they need aid. Though I wonder whom she is talking about there is no time to vocally question. People are in danger and need a Grey Wardens help. With a battle cry dedicated to my gods, I charge past my handler and into the fray. Demons are pouring out of a large green tear in the sky and though I find it interesting there is no time to contemplate this hole in the fade. Too many demons are attacking, and so I throw myself into the battle. With my memory as sharp as ever I cast only the basic level lightning spells. There is no need to make Cassandra afraid of me as that may lead to death.

These strikes are effective enough to not require me to step up my skills. Each well placed strike from my twirling staff sends purple energy leaping towards one of the visible demons. The bolts take chunks out of these poor creatures wherever they strike, one landing perfectly and taking off the head of a wisp. The others are not so lucky, with many of the leathery demons screeching in agony as limbs are ripped from their corporeal bodies with sprays of blood and gore. Though it is not visible externally I am basking in the feel of battle once more. It has been far too long since I raised a staff against a fair opponent. The life of a halla farmer held no comparison to this and for the first time in ages I felt excitement rather than monotony.

Back to back we fight against this horde until the last falls from a well placed steel tipped bolt that streaks past my face. It strikes true and the demon who I had been ready to zap falls and crumbles to green bits like the rest of the defeated. As I turn to thank the fighter I freeze and stare. That long red ponytail and haughty expression is unmistakable. Last time I had seen Varric Tethras he had been enjoying a life of privilege in Kirkwall after being proclaimed a hero. What was he doing here in the mountains of Thedas?

He clearly recognized me too, if the widening of eyes and slight dip of the crossbow was anything to go by. As I met his eyes I begged him to be silent, Cassandra did not need to know who I was. That would only convince her that I was guilty for the conclave and lead to my death. Focused on the dwarf I am surprised when a slim hand jerked my left arm into the sky. The mark sparked for a second, and then connected with the open hole to the fade. The pain is much worse this time. It feels like thousands of wounds being opened across my body. I can feel my head build with pressure and in an attempt to hide from the ever growing agony I withdraw into my mind. Though my eyes are tightly closed, I can see an unknown light grow brighter, and then flash before darkness filled my vision.

The same hand that was supporting my heavy body by my arm carefully lowers me to the snow. As I lay on my back trying to regain my breath I hear the crunching of snow as Varric walks forward. It crunches even louder as he drops down next to me, most likely on his knees if the sound was anything to go by.

"Does the prisoner live," Cassandra calls out impassionedly as Varric's fingers press firmly into the side of my neck. They stay there for a minute as there is a sound of leather armor shifting followed by a hand gently rubbing through my hair. He must remember how I react violently to people touching me when I am in pain. He had done this once before, when I took a dark spawn blade to the chest that was meant for him in Kirkwall. We were trapped for hours under rubble waiting for rescue as the dark spawn swarmed around us. To keep me quiet he had rubbed at my hair in a friendly gesture to remind me that I was not alone. It was the only part of me he could reach as we were both pinned and to this day I am not sure it was meant just to reassure me.

"He lives," Varric replies as he removes the fingers from my neck. "Pulse is weak though and breath is heavier than it should be."

"Solas, tend to the prisoner," Cassandra orders as her sword is loudly slid back into its scabbard. "We have very little time to rest. We must get back to Lilianna."

"I will do my best," a calm voice said as another walked forward and a bottle was placed to my lips. I drank heavily, my thirst ignoring the bitter taste of elfroot. A second flask replaces the bottle and as I drink I feel my strength returning. "Cassandra, your prisoner. He is a mage and the amount of power coming from the mark may take his life before we get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is incompatible with his own. We should consider another means of closing the breach."

"You want to bet on that Chuckles," Varric snaps as I open my eyes to the blue and green sky above. "I am willing to bet Bianca here on your prisoner here not only living through closing the rift, but being able to walk within days afterwards."

"A large boast Mr. Tethras," Solas replies as I accept Cassandra's helping hand. "Though I am tempted to take you up on the daring bet I do not want to leave you weaponless when he inevitably dies."

As the two bicker I take a moment to become steady on my feet. Whatever potion I had been given worked well and within a few more minutes I am finally able to remove my arm from where Cassandra had thrown it around her shoulders. She gives me a side glance, as if to reassure herself that I am able to stand without aid. I return it with a weak smile as I lean heavily on the staff for a few moments.

"Thank you," I say as I turn towards the bickering. "I appreciate the-"

I quickly stop when my eyes meet the elf who was called Solas. I knew who this was, my travels in the fade had shown me as much. Though he did look slightly different here the jawbone necklace was a clear giveaway to who he was. However, it seemed that he was also playing the apostate card. He did not wish to be known either for whatever reason. With a hard glance towards the elf I wait until his eyes meet mine and mouth "Not a Word." He responds with a nod. I understand the meaning of that nod. I will not reveal his name and neither will he reveal my identity. It seems that this group has more secrets than I could have ever anticipated.

"Seeker, do you want to take the lead," Varric says as he walks up next to me. "You are the only one with a shield. I think that our friend here is feeling good enough to keep moving."

Cassandra thankfully nods to this statement and turns away, jumping over the fallen wooden barricade that blocked our path. Solas quickly follows with one last glance my direction and only once they are out of sight does Varric hand me a small pouch. "Been saving this since Kirkwall," he mutters as he also leaps the barricade.

Taking a moment before following, I shake open the pouch and stare. The gleaming coiled copper and bronze of my old Commander of the Grey necklace had been well cared for since I had lost it during the fight when he and I nearly died. The two crystalline covered griffon feathers of my long passed companion were unchipped and still firmly in place next to the gold double eagle pendant that had clearly been polished. As the familiar weight settled under my armor and around my neck I felt gratitude towards the dwarf. I had mourned the loss of the last of my faithful companion for many ages, believing the last of him to be lost and yet here was my necklace safely returned. I know I owe Varric now, and for this priceless gift I think I will try to find upgrades for his crossbow. After all, one can never have enough firepower.

With not a look back I follow the small group across the barricade and into the frozen snow below. It is clear we have a longer distance to go, and not much time. As we walk quickly through the snow I can hear the angry calls of the foul beasts. As we crest a ridge I finally see the source of the sound. Ahead lie many demons on the river below, one of which has a bony crest. I am well aware that this most likely signifies some sort of rank and so I blast him first, beginning the assault. When facing an enemy always take out the commander. That was what my Senior Warden had told me after I survived The Joining. He had given me my first staff and my griffon companion that had long been lost to time not long before he fell to the blight. I do still miss him at times though now is not a time to reminisce.

I am irritated to see that my first blast did not kill the demon, though I could not really expect it to. This was some form of Elite and the mark had done something to my magic. I am much weaker than I should have been and these were clearly much stronger than the fodder I had fought earlier. Focusing on that one elite I ignore the blasts of green magic that slam into my chest. They are but pinpricks to me and as such easily ignored. Cassandra is to my left on the ice fighting another leathery demon while Varric and Solas are in the back attempting to take out their range. I know that, as a Mage, I am not meant for front lines but someone has to protect the others. I hear Varric call something out and quickly turn to make sure another demon has not appeared behind.

I pay for my moment of inattention. With a savage slash, the demons claws rip through my pathetic excuse for armor. The strike burns and with an angry cry I focus on my rage and use my borrowed staff as a weapon. I am low on mana and due to the damned mark and I am slower to recover than ever. I can both hear and feel the redirected crossbow bolts as they fly past my face to connect with the elite though it does not register fully through the bloodlust fueled rage. Using the metal top of the staff as a bludgeon I slam it down repeatedly upon the demon's head.

It continues to strike at me and though Cassandra is coming to my aid I ignore her presence. It has one massive hand gripped around my torso, slowly crushing my ribs. Though it is getting hard to breathe I know I cannot give up. I must kill this thing first, before it kills me. As the black blood of the vile beast covers my hair and skin I do not stop. Only this demon's death will sate the bloodlust that calls though my blood. Again and again I slam the staff down upon the demon's head. Even when its grip slackens and it falls to the snow I do not stop. Only once its skull is a messy stain in the snow around its body do I cease.

I take a moment to remove the viable crossbow bolts from its body and hand them back to Varric silently. He has seen my bloodlust once before and remains respectfully silent while Cassandra and Solas mutter off to the side. I can hear words like "Vicious", "Possessed" and "Destroyer" but I ignore them. There is no room for kindness in war. Especially for offspring and those who serve the Archdemons. I let the small band mutter off to the side as I stare from the ridge across our battlefield. Within a few moments I feel my mana return and with sparks dancing across my fingers I know that I am ready.

"Let up continue on," I command as Varric finishes reloading his beloved crossbow. "We have to find this Lilianna and prove my innocence."

As we take off at a run I feel it. I can feel the faint call of the Archdemon that has plagued me though the ages. Being bound to a witch god has its benefits as well as its curses. Though I will never fall completely to the call, I will not die until the being is ready for me to. I have not worshipped her name in years though she still keeps me alive. At times I wonder why. But not now. Now is the time to fight. With my blood pumping rapidly though my veins I let a smile cross my face for the first time since the last blight. I was finally doing what I had been trained for. One of the Last Grey Wardens of Ferelden is back, and my soul is calling for war.


End file.
